


Evil Chuck

by Rinkafic



Series: Misc Stargate [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinkafic/pseuds/Rinkafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck becomes part of a plot to take over Atlantis</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evil Chuck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [padfootthegrim](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=padfootthegrim), [atlantisjackson](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=atlantisjackson).



> This is a bit of stuff that was the result of me being very goofy and punch drunk in the wee hours while playing a round of Stargate Mafia as Chuck as a bad guy. 
> 
> I was writing snippets of story to amuse the mods when I chose my victims each night. 
> 
> I've done a bit of reworking to make it make more sense and added an actual ending. I didn't do an ending at the time because I got caught and lynched and didn't have to choose a victim to silence that night.

They had his mother. Ordinarily, Chuck would have reported it and gotten help from his superiors, but they had convinced him that he couldn't trust anyone. The highest levels were infiltrated, anyone could be part of the plot. If he said the wrong word in the wrong ear, they would kill his mom back on Earth. They said he wouldn't have to do much, just go along with whatever orders he was given and his mother would be safe. 

Since Chuck had accepted their offer and begun taking orders from them, he had noticed that he felt strange. He had always considered himself a happy-go-lucky guy. He got on well with most of the people in the City; it was what had made his business ventures so successful. But ever since the night he had been directed to an unused lab and had woken there alone, things had been very different.

He would see people as he walked through the halls and an irrational feeling of anger would rise up. Scientists who had never said or done anything to him provoked him, made him want to scream and shout and hit and hurt. He didn’t understand this. This was not like him at all; he had never felt such strong negative emotions in his life before - outside of a hockey arena, that is. Hockey was different, separate. But now it was like all his hockey emotions were blending with his real, everyday emotions. He didn’t like it, it made him uncomfortable.

It was almost as if he were no longer himself. That worried him.

He had received a new message over his headset from his contact voice. He had a new target. Apparently, they had decided that Doctor Jackson was getting too close to the truth about the plan, and a message needed to be sent. He had been instructed to inject Jackson with a syringe of paralytic agent. Someone else would see to the rest of it, he was merely to do as he was told and administer the drug.

At the thought of Doctor Jackson, a man Chuck knew only in passing and by reputation, the crazy emotions rose up again. It was almost uncontrollable. He had an urge to find Daniel Jackson and do more than simply paralyze his vocal cords with his little device. He wanted to hurt him. Chuck felt rage towards the man. He was so overwhelmed by the emotions; he had begun to shake, uncontrollably.

Freaked out by this, Chuck ran to his quarters, instead of going to lunch in the mess hall as he had originally planned to do. He stripped and dove under the hottest water he could stand, trying to shower away the bad feelings that were nearly choking him. What was wrong with him? He slapped his wet hands against the tile and tried to calm himself. He couldn’t function like this, on the edge and about to snap and lash out at someone.

When he felt more in control of himself and could rationally think about his target without hyperventilating with seething rage, he plotted his next steps in his mind.

They had given him a syringe, a drug that would make the subject forget events surrounding their dosing with it. They had told him to use it sparingly, as they could not smuggle more to him any time soon. With the base on high alert after several recent security incidents, he did not want to risk sneaking into Doctor Jackson’s quarters while the man slept to inject the paralytic drug. Doctor McKay had put extra alarms on all the doors. It was probably wise to use the amnesia drug.

Chuck had checked Doctor Jackson’s schedule on the network and found out that he had a late lecture in the amphitheatre that was not supposed to end until well after 2300. Jackson had an early meeting with the rest of SG-1. It was logical that Doctor Jackson would go straight to his quarters after the lecture to sleep. Chuck had to take several deep breaths as he felt the bad feelings surge up at the thought of SG-1. 

He waited in a deep doorway that was a distance from the amphitheatre, on Doctor Jackson’s path back to his quarters. He had put the security cameras on a loop in this corridor, but he didn't dare leave that too long or someone would catch it. He heard footsteps and peeked out. It was Jackson and he was alone. Chuck raised the za’at and fired as Jackson pulled even with his position. He stuck the weapon under his belt and went to kneel beside the Doctor. He leaned over him and injected the ‘amnesia drug’ and then the paralytic into his throat.

He had to force himself to straighten up and away, to keep his hands from circling the Doctor’s throat. He hated this man. He hated Doctor Jackson in that moment more than he had ever hated anything in his life. He backed away, flattening himself against the wall. He couldn’t do this. He had thought he could, but he couldn’t.

Chuck felt something shift inside him, something that was apart and separate from everything that was Chuck. It berated him, called him weak, and it made him feel tiny and insignificant for his fear. It shouted at him to leave, to distance himself from the scene, to get away from Doctor Jackson before he woke or was found by a passerby.

As Chuck glanced back over his shoulder, he wasn’t certain which he hated more in that moment, Doctor Daniel Jackson, the cruel new thing inside him, or himself, for being so very weak.

~*~

His new masters had given Chuck an assignment. He had even been outfitted with new tools and gadgets with which to accomplish the task. Shiny new playthings that bent to his will like nothing ever had. He didn’t even need the stupid ATA gene to use the stuff.

He had thought the task done, the first night of the infiltration. He had sent his small spider-like metal pet to inject the target, after programming it with the DNA profile from the medical records that had been gathered. However, it became obvious that the pet had injected the wrong person or missed the body and injected the mattress. Colonel Sheppard was roaming around the base, speaking normally. Chuck thought that perhaps this meant Colonel sheppard was Their enemy and therefore someone Chuck could trust and go to about his mother and the blackmail. But then he thought that perhaps this was a test of his loyalty. And so he remained silent.

He wasn’t sure what he would do if his new masters ordered him to do anything more than arranging for a little injection now and then, a little paralytic to the throat that did no lasting harm to the target. When he had mentioned his apprehension to his contact, he had promised a peaceful transition. They promised good health to everyone and an end to the hostilities. Chuck needed to believe that what he was doing wasn't terrible, in the grander scheme. 

His contact had been angry, Chuck had to correct his error. He had to make sure that this time, John Sheppard was successfully injected with the silencing agent. He could not trust this to his remote controlled device, fearing failure. The voice that came over his radio might not be quite as tolerant of another failure.

He had set the security cameras on a loop once again so that he was able to simply walk up to Colonel Sheppard's quarters. He saw no one on his approach. He had checked to be sure the room was occupied before leaving his duty station. The lights were on in the room. He knew the Colonel was sprawled across the bed, sleeping.

He set the spider-bot down on the floor and used the tip of a screwdriver he had in his toolkit to press the door release and let it inside. He had doubled the dosage of the silencing agent in the hypodermic chamber; to be sure enough was delivered with the injection.

Watching the bot's progress on the hand-held screen he had brought with him. He heard the small ‘click’ in his earpiece that was the signal that the spider-bot was finished. He tapped the return code into the tiny remote in his palm and opened the door again to let the bot out.

“Who's a good pet?” Chuck crooned as he picked up the spider-bot and set it carefully in his backpack.

~*~

The human was weak. All humans were weak, but this one particularly so. He was sentimental and it made him question orders. Questioning orders was not permissible. There was a task that needed to be accomplished and weakness and uncertainty would cause failure. It must not be allowed to continue.

Dah’te made his decision while his host slept. His host would be suppressed, tamped down and controlled. Allowances had been made for a time so that Dah’te could acclimate to the new host, but the time of adjustment was over. He had to take his rightful place as the owner of this new form.

Learning what the human knew had taken a few days, but Dah’te was confident that he could impersonate the man. How difficult could it be? The man had few close friends. He rarely spoke during the day, other than what was required in the course of his duties. He didn’t share his confidences with anyone. There was little chance that Dah’te would say or do anything that would contradict something the man had said, since he hardly ever said anything!

Yes, it was time for Dah’te to rise and face the world. The gou’ald had plans for Atlantis, and his host held a key position necessary to making those plans a reality.

~*~

Walking into the control room, Dah’te forced himself to adopt the half-smile that usually graced his host’s face as Dah’te had seen it in the mirror. He nodded in greeting to the people that waved or smiled at him. He went to his host’s workstation and slid onto the rolling chair. He entered his host’s pass codes and called up the work that his host was responsible for completing during his duty shift.

“Morning, Chuck,” Amelia Banks said as she arrived at her duty station. She smiled at him.

He returned the smile. “Hello, Amelia. And how are you today? How was the basketball game?”

She snorted and waved her hand dismissively. “The marines creamed the scientists again. It seems like I’m always rooting for the wrong team.”

Dah’te made a noncommittal humming noise that he had observed his host make in the past. The answer seemed to be enough for Amelia, she turned away to her work station and said no more to him.

His earpiece buzzed in the pattern that told him it was Zil’ma. He reached up and tapped it. “Campbell.”

“It has been decided that you should incapacitate the target. Do so as unobtrusively as possible. Do not eliminate him; his death would be more trouble than it would be worth now. Others will see to that when the time comes.”

“I see. I understand. I could meet you in the park or at the mess hall.” It was the code that would tell Zil’ma that he was now in control and the host had been sublimated. Zil’ma would tell the others.

“Excellent, it is good to have you with us. It has taken far too long and our patience was growing thin with the situation.”

~*~

Chuck screamed in protest as he watched, unable to act, as the creature they had put inside his body took over and pretended to be him. No one realized. No one seemed to see anything different about him. That made him cry for a while. He had never felt so lonely or alone. He was trapped in his own body.

The creature followed Jonas Quinn as he jogged around the running trails that were marked throughout the city. Didn’t anyone notice that Chuck was running? Chuck didn’t run! Why didn’t anyone see that he was not himself? On a quiet stretch in the lower levels, the creature sped up and overtook Quinn. Hands moving too quickly for Chuck to see, the creature grabbed Quinn and wrestled him to the ground.

Calmly, with no hesitation, the creature injected the memory wipe drug and the paralytic into Jonas Quinn. Like Chuck, he would be unable to speak. Unlike Chuck, the effect was temporary for Jonas, he would regain control again.

Chuck was afraid he was now a permanent prisoner in his own body. 

~*~

It had not been as easy to pretend to be the Gate technician as Dah’te had anticipated. People were casting suspicious glances his way. Jonas Quinn had brought people up to the Control Room and they had given him odd glances and stood on the balcony speaking for a long time before they went away again. Amelia Banks had not spoken to him at all that day.

The host consciousness was fighting him, with more strength than Dah’te and the others had believed the weak human would have. It was taking a great deal of concentration for him to maintain control.

When he attempted to sleep, Dah’te had found it difficult to rest. The host was screaming constantly, enough that Dah’te’s head hurt. He took pain pills he found in the host’s quarters. He finally fell asleep, after tossing and turning to get comfortable for what seemed like hours.

People were chasing him. He could hear voices shouting in anger coming from the corridor behind him. He ran, the corridor seemed endless in front of him. There was a door ahead. He ran to it and it refused to open at his command. He pounded on it frantically. When it slid open, Zil’ma stood there with her hands on her hips, frowning. He had failed and because he had failed, she was dead now. Just like Oorm, he had failed to protect his comrade and Oorm had been killed by the stupid humans.

He went to his knees, then fell forward onto his face, begging their forgiveness for his failure.

Zil’ma kicked him in the head and called him worthless. Oorm opened the door and the people that had been chasing him swarmed through. They seized him and began tearing at him violently.

He screamed.

The noise of his own scream woke him. He sat up in the bed, sweat pouring down his face. The host was pounding at him again. He told it to be silent. It ignored him.

He tried to sleep again, but each time, a violent nightmare woke him. He finally gave up, showered and dressed in the host’s uniform and left the host’s quarters.

On the way to the mess hall, he saw the Athosian woman coming out of the lift. She smiled and walked over to him. “Hello, Chuck. You are up a bit early this morning.” He nodded. It seemed the woman intended to accompany him to get his meal.

“Did you sleep poorly last evening?” she asked as they piled food on their trays and he led the way to an empty table.

“Is it obvious?” he asked, perhaps a bit more sharply than he should have.

“You seem tired.” She put jam on her muffin and watched him as he began to eat. Her attentive stare was unnerving to him.

“I have been having disturbing dreams.”

“Well, it is no wonder with all of the killings.” She reached over the table and squeezed his hand. She couldn't know she was comforting him for something he was part of, for the deaths of his comrades that would gladly see her dead.

Dah’te nodded and bent his head over his food. He said no more to her. He rushed through his meal.

“I’ll see you around, Teyla,” he said as he picked up his tray and left the mess hall.

~*~

Teyla watched Chuck leave and touched her finger to her radio. They had been asked to report anything out of the ordinary to Command. “Colonel Carter, I had the opportunity to observe Chuck just now. There is something seriously out of the ordinary about him. The Chuck I know would not have casually dismissed the deaths that have happened on base. He complained of nightmares and looked as if he had not slept. He did not offer me a single word of condolence about the loss of one of my people. That is not like him at all. I thought I should bring it to your attention.”

“I see. Rodney is setting up extra surveillance; I’ll have him put Chuck on the list. If there is enough cause today, I’ll order him to the infirmary for some tests. Thank you Teyla, you might have identified a serious problem we were not aware of.”

~*~

The orders were odd. They wanted Sheppard silenced again. Dah’te wondered if another dose of the paralytic would do serious harm to the Colonel.

There was not much of the amnesia agent left. He probably only had enough for two more doses and then it would be gone. He wondered if the master plan was going to work. They had lost two of their own. Perhaps they were close to failure.

He screamed in his mind at the host, trying to tamp down the noisy, bothersome creature as he waited for the Colonel to return to his quarters. 

Sheppard spotted him in the hallway, and his step faltered. “Hey, Chuck, what’re you doing slinking around?”

Dah’te moved closer. “I wanted to talk to you. Privately,” he said, letting his voice go husky.

“Is that so?”

Dah’te struck, jabbing the needle of the paralytic into Sheppard's throat. The effect was instantaneous, his body went limp. Grabbing one of Sheppard's wrists in his hand, Dah’te waved the limp hand over the door control. He dragged his semi-conscious victim inside and administered the amnesia drug. He left Sheppard on the floor.

Returning to his quarters, Dah’te settled in and tried to sleep.

But the dreams came again.

~*~

They were escalating, their plans seemed to be falling apart and they were desperate to salvage their plans. All Chuck could do was watch. He was weary, he had been fighting against the control of the goa'uld constantly for days. He couldn't always see what was going on anymore, he was being squelched by the snake in his head. 

Goa'uld. How could he have been so blind and stupid? 

He wondered if his mother was still alive. He wondered what was going to happen. Would someone figure out what was happening in time to stop them?

The goa'uld suddenly began to panic. Chuck could feel the emotions and then felt the goa'uld's control slipping. His vision returned, so did his hearing, though both slipped in and out as the interloper in his body tried to regain control. Pushing back as hard as he could, Chuck tried again to batter at the goa'uld.

He had a glimpse of the control room, being swarmed with marines. He heard a warning klaxon blaring and raised voices. And then he saw and felt nothing.

~*~

"Chuck? Come on, open your eyes," a soft voice coaxed. 

He forced his eyes open and Ameilia smiled at him before turning away to call for Doctor Keller. She rushed to the bedside and patted his arm. 

"Welcome back, you've had a rough time, haven't you?" Doctor Keller asked.

He nodded slowly and felt tears start to slip out. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. They had my mother."

Doctor Keller gave a tight smile and patted his arm again. "We know. She's safe, the SGC sent a team to get her. She is fine. We've removed the goa'uld, so you'll have a bit of recovery time from the surgery."

The doctor asked him some questions and checked him over before telling him to rest. She and Amelia left the infirmary. 

He closed his eyes, and then opened them again, relieved to have control over such a simple thing once more. He gave up fighting sleep and closed his eyes and pulled the blanket up. he would worry about the fallout of this ordeal when he woke up.

 

The End


End file.
